I hate decorating for Christmas. When I was a kid, decorating was fun, but now, it seems like such a painful chore. First, there's the lugging of the boxes from all corners of the Earth. Then there's the rearranging, and the inevitable thoughts of "How did I ever accumulate so much stuff?" (Don't tell my husband I've had that revelation.) Next, the unpacking of breakable items, and inevitably, more things get broken. You can't sweat it, it happens. Someone, maybe an underage someone, grabs some tissue paper and realizes too late that is contains something breakable...you can just imagine the ornament flying up... and the lunge... both in slow motion, like a collasal spill in Bounty commercial, upsetting but unstoppable. Of course, if you're lucky, someone will break that ornament that you secretly hate, but feel too guilty to get rid of - YAY! There IS order in the universe.
You can't worry about the broken stuff, though. I remember my Italian grandparents always had a beautiful tree, but from what my parents told me, they argued every year when they set it up. I loved them dearly, but that must have been the perfectionist in each of them. There's something hyporcritical about fighting while you're putting up a Christmas tree, isn't there?
This year was pretty painless, though. The kids assembled the artificial tree (they like the assemble-by-color system), my spouse put the lights on (a stroke of luck for me - I was out drinking Starbucks with my two best buddies) and then the kids put on most of the ornaments. All I still need to do is put some festive ribbon around it, give it some kind of crowning glory, and then sit and with the family and admire our handiwork. Ahhhh... that's the best part.